


Along the Dotted Line (Langst)

by The_Depressed_Huffle_Puffle



Category: Langst - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Don't Kill Me, I'm juggling three books and mulitple oneshots, Keith need help, Lance too, Langst, M/M, Military AU, My first big project I actually want to complete, None of the main seven die, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Thanks, Voltron, i'm trying to break it, if you have a heart, jk, just a lot of people die, lance centric, pinning klance, please dont ask for updates, shiro needs a hug, spy AU, thank you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-04 01:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Depressed_Huffle_Puffle/pseuds/The_Depressed_Huffle_Puffle
Summary: A war that has raged far too long, a length that many of the reasons for the war, the same one that caused the death of his loved ones, had been long forgotten, making hatred the only fuel to run the frequent battles that plagued the world Lance had once looked at with beauty. Now he only saw inexorable pain and death, a place where only the strong survived- and even they fell to lay under the ground, the dirt separating them from the azure sky.-Lyrics:Mars- Sleeping at LastFind more information on the chapters on "Between the Lines"Here smaller missions and interactions take place.





	1. Warning

Please read with caution.

This book deals with topics such as the following:

Prisoners of war

war

torture

mentions of torture

self-sacrificing

sacrificing

major character death (None of the paladins)

Cursing

suicidal thoughts

military

spy

_**Klance** _

_**If you do not like to read any of the following or do not ship Klance please do not advance.** _

__

 


	2. Chapter 1

Pt. 1

  
We laid our names to rest

  
Along the dotted line

  
We left our date of birth

  
and our history behind

 

* * *

 

“Mamà?”

  
A boy tugged on the white-stained-red sleeve of the body on the floor. He watched as his mother gasped beneath a pillar that had fallen from a nearby building.

  
He pulled again, trying to get a response from her, “Mamá, por favor levántate.” Flinching at the wetness, he brings the scarlet hand to rest against his cheek. His own feverish face flush against the pulsing limb. “Mamà.”

  
Sounds of machine guns resonated around him, enveloping him in a tight grip that he couldn’t find a way around. The sound drowned his words, lodging them in his throat unable to escape.  
Cries of soldiers around him running and falling victim to the vicious noises terrorized him. Their screams echoed off the walls and into his head, burning and carving them, leaving a scar that could never be healed no matter how much one tried.

  
Whimpering, he crawled under the arm of the other, trying desperately to get close to his hope of surviving the war. The ever-present feeling of dread overwhelmed his senses as the gasping below him turned into words. Some he could understand, small phrases and fragments of Spanish but most were whispers and wheezes he was unable to make out. The dying words of his mother, one last phrase, one last name, all coming from his one last hope.

  
"llegarás a la seguridad,” another fight for breath interrupted the words, painful coughs that came in multitudes and soundless screams accompanying them, “y nos salvarás a todos. Termina esta guerra olvidada por Dios y tru la libertad a todos nosotros. ¿Tú entiendes?” She looked to the side, staring her boy down with a stern glare that only mothers could foster.

  
She raised her eyebrow, trying to ignore the pain she was enduring. Giving a painful smile, she softened as her youngest nodded his head. She squeezed his hand once more, trying to put all of her love into that one small action.  
She felt her heart thumping in her chest, trying to beat and pump life into her. She closed her eyes, not wanting her boy to have to do it. She drew one last breath and with her final exhale, she muttered the final words, “Bueno chico. Hazme orgulloso, Lance.”

  
Lance shook his hand, trying to get a response from his mom. He tried everything. Poking her in the arm, yelling- screaming- her name, the title she had died proud of. He screamed for help, his throat burning with every growing screech.

  
Only at the age of six, he’d watched his family be killed, one by one. All of them older than him, fighting in a war against the government that was deemed hopeless.

  
A war that has raged far too long, a length that many of the reasons for the war, the same one that caused the death of his loved ones, had been long forgotten, making hatred the only fuel to run the frequent battles that plagued the world Lance had once looked at with beauty.

  
Now he only saw inexorable pain and death, a place where only the strong survived- and even they fell to lay under the ground, the dirt separating them from the azure sky.

  
He screamed once more for help. This time the cry reached the ears of a commander. More gunfire rained over him as he felt himself being picked up from the ground. Strong arms grabbing him and hauling him up in a fireman's carry as they rushed him to the waiting helicopter.

  
The tight grip didn’t detour Lance from trying to break free, begging them to turn back and get his mother. He cried, trying to convince them that she would make it. That the unresponsive body was just sleeping. They ignored him; instead optioning to throw him in the back of the helicopter and slap his mouth shut using a cloth as a gag.

  
Lance watched as the man conversed quickly with another soldier in a white and red suit before rushing back in and barking orders to the pilot, to which the latter nodded and began their ascent to the sky, leaving behind his home, the graves of his family, the body of his mother. -

  
A man waved Lance up, beckoning him forward to stand in front of the table, “Take one form, fill it out and give it to the guy o’er there.” He cocked his head to his left, jabbing a thumb at another man who smiled and took a packet into his own hands. The man at the table peered around Lance, calling for the next person.

  
Lance took the pages and skimmed through the questions. The ink glared at him and Lance found it difficult to focus. Some of them were regular questions such as name, age, and ethnicity. Other dealt with sexuality, religion, place of origin, and his former position in the government. He pulled the pen from its place on top of the clipboard and started answering.

  
“I heard Alfor’s coming out of retirement.” Lance tried to ignore the conversation but found himself straining to hear more as time went on. He turned the page, reading the next question.

  
Living Family: None

  
He attempted to block out the small chuckle, “The man’s too old to try to do anything. He’s got a daughter ya know.”  
“Heard she’s hot,” one snickered, “Don’t know though. No one’s seen her.”

  
Lance controlled himself from rolling his eyes.

  
Blood Type: O+

  
“Kogane’s signing up.”

  
“We all know he’s getting in since Shirogane’s in there. Altea needs him like crazy.”

  
“Yeah.”

  
The one who initiated the conversation clicked his pen, stopping once to write something down before starting to click once more.

  
Lance took a breath, “Please, stop your clicking. It’s distracting.” The boy stopped, looking at the Cuban with wide eyes. “Don’t stare. It’s rude.”

  
The other coughed, “Yeah. Yeah, sorry! Just-” He cut himself off, trying to figure out how to say the words. Lance waited for the inevitable, “I haven’t seen a Cuban since… you know… since.”

  
Lance cursed himself silently, trying to keep his arms down in attempt to restrain himself from covering the three blue marks lining the outer corners of his eyes, “Mhm.” He looked back down, not wanting to carry the conversation.

  
“Were you there when the Galra-”

  
“I’d love to continue this conversation another time but I’ve finished my papers,” Lance blurted out, refraining from stabbing his pen through the paper on his punctuation mark. “Nice talking to you.”

  
The man reached out for Lance, “But-”

  
Lance turned and walked away, escaping from the prying eyes of the others.

  
Handing his paper over, he stepped up to the table where the always-smiling-man stood, “I’ve finished my application.”

  
Without looking at Lance he grabbed the paper and flipped through, mumbling and giving small happy hums as he skimmed the pages. “Well, it’s all filled out! Just give it here and I’ll stamp it will a seal of approval-“ The man looked up, his eyes widened, “Cuban.”

  
Lance felt his stomach sink, “The paper, Sir?” He looked the older in the eyes, “If you could stamp it?”

  
He visibly shook as he snapped out of his trance, “Ah, yes. Of course.” He dipped a wooden stamp into a pad of ink, making sure to cover the bottom completely. He stuck the stamp onto the paper, hesitating the pull it back off. “I was there when Cuba fell. It was horrible.”  
“I stood by them, the paladins of old.” The smile disappeared from his face, frown lines covered his forehead. “Alfor’s a close friend of mine. I tended to his wounds throughout the war.” The man finally pulled the stamp off.  
“I hope to you see you again someday…”He handed the paper back to Lance, letting him take the document.

  
Lance smiled, trying to be polite, “I do too.” He turned to walk out the door, stepping through and letting the artificial light of the dome set on his skin. He walked away, a letter of his acceptance into the Altea Agency not due to arrive for a few days.-

  
“Mind if I sit here?”

  
Lance perked up, his mouth still hung open. He quickly swallowed the food and wiped his mouth, “Uh, yeah. Yes. I mean, no, I don’t mind. Yes, you can sit. Here, I mean.” Lance looked up as the larger male set down his food, shuffling to the side to make room.

  
“My name’s Hunk.” He reached a hand out for Lance to take, “Nice to meet you.”  
Lance looked at the hand and back to Hunk’s face. He quickly took the hand and shook it, careful not to squeeze too tightly, “Lance.”

  
Hunk frowned, “Here.”

  
He let go of Lance’s hand only to grab it once more, “For a good handshake you need to grip the other person’s hand firmly. Not loose, but not too tight.” Hunk squeezed Lance’s hand, prompting Lance to do the same. “Then you look into the other’s eyes and complete the conversation.” He shook Lance’s hand, “My name’s Hunk. What’s yours?”

  
Lance felt slightly threatened by the level of confidence Hunk was giving. Looking Hunk in the eyes he said, “The name’s Lance. It’s nice to meet you.” Lance waited for a second, loosening his grip, “Thank you.”

  
Letting go of Lance’s hand, Hunk smiled, “Likewise.” He turned to his food, “So, why are you sitting here alone?” He put a scoop of whatever was on his plate into his mouth, “Any friends or-”

  
“No.”

  
“Pardon?” Hunk looked at the other, “Did I say something or do something to offend you? I’m sorry if I did-”

  
“What?” Lance twisted his face in a confused scowl, “No no no no, you didn’t say anything. I just don’t have any other friends.”

  
Hunk lit up, “Oh! Good!” He paused. “Wait, not good. Good that I didn’t offend you but bad that you don’t have any other friends. I mean, I could be your friend but that’ll only be if you wanted to be friends. Friends are good. Well, most friends are. I think I’d be a good friend. A great friend. The best friend to ever friend and-”

  
Hunk’s ramble was cut off by a laugh. He looked up in shock.

  
“Yes, Hunk.” Lance smiled at the other, “We can be friends. Close friends at that.”

  
Hunk returned the gesture, “Thank you.”

  
“Likewise.”

  
Hunk put some more food into his mouth, “So, what are you aiming for?”  
Lance stared at the other, “What do you mean?”

  
“I’m aiming for an engineer, through helping with Tech won’t hurt either.” Hunk stabbed his fork into what looked like meat, “If I could, I would go help in the field…”

  
“Why can’t you?” Lance said, crossing his feet at the ankles and cocking his head to the side, “Nothing stopping you from getting there.”

  
Hunk scratched the back of his head, “I don’t do well under pressure. I get nauseous very easily.”

  
Lance patted his back, “Well it can’t be that bad-”

  
“I threw up in Iverson’s truck on the way here.”

  
“Oh.”

  
“Anyway,” Hunk grabbed his fork out of the...thing… and started to cut it, “Stop avoiding the question. What are you going to be?”

  
Lance hadn’t given it much thought as to why he wanted to be here. Revenge? Glory? To give him a reason to live?

  
“A pilot,” Lance settled on saying.

  
Hunk nodded his head, “Cargo pilots are cool.”

  
“No,” Lance frowned, “A fighter pilot.”

  
Hunk spit out a bit of his food, “A fighter pilot? Like, an actual fighter pilot? One of those pilots that go out there and help the field agents? The one with the highest death rate?”

  
Lance nodded, “Yeah, one of those pilots.”

  
Hunk pushed back his hair, “That’s dangerous.”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Practically suicide.”

  
“I suppose.”

  
“How can you do that knowing you’ll probably die!” Hunk exclaimed throwing his hands into the air, “That’s terrifying.”

  
Lance shrugged, “Not much to live for anyway.” He carefully placed a spoonful of ‘chicken’ onto his tongue, “If you haven’t noticed.”

  
“They only take one fighter pilot a year, do you think you’ll get through?” Hunk bit his lip in worry, “Kogane’s-”

  
“I know.” Lance interrupted, “I know that Kogane’s in and that he’s trying to get to a fighter. I know that he’s the ‘most talented pilot of our generation’ and I know that I have little chance of beating him.” Lance brought his eyes to Hunk’s, “Doesn’t mean that I can’t try.”

  
Hunk grinned, his eyes lighting up at Lance’s words, “No, it doesn’t.”  
-

  
When Lance met Keith it was more than unpleasant.

  
Thanks to Hunk, Lance had come out of his shell.

  
Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing? Well, Hunk only regretted it once in a while so he supposed it was both.

  
It was four weeks into the year that he came across the ‘most talented pilot.’

  
Lance walked into class hearing all the mutters and mumbles coming from all his classmates.

  
He threw his bag down, plopping himself down into his chair and turning around to talk to Hunk. Only, this time the chair behind him wasn’t occupied by his friend, but by some random guy with the worst haircut to ever plague Earth.

  
“You’re not Hunk.”

  
“Nor am I a deadly but cute hippo, yet here I am,” the other had replied putting his chin in the palm of his hand.

  
Lance raised an eyebrow, “Might as well be.” He raised his leg over the back of the chair, settling for straddling the wood. “You have a mullet.”

  
Keith used his free hand to reach up to the black strands on his head, “It’s not a mullet.”

  
“You have bangs and long hair in the back. It’s a mullet,” Lance felt the irritation climb through him, setting off parts of his brain that he didn’t even know were there.

  
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

  
Lance inhaled deeply, “Why are you like this?” It wasn’t a serious question. More like the kind that you ask in your head and accidentally comes out.

  
“I have a complicated family.” Keith looked Lance dead in the eyes, taunting him and daring Lance to say something about it.

  
Lance hadn’t even known this guy for five minutes and he already wanted to run a sword through him. This guy pushes every button except for the right ones and Lance was just about done. This guy who just oozed confidence and authority challenges Lance just as they meet. Lance wasn’t about to just sit down and take it.

  
He shot up from his seat, about to throw a punch when a hand wraps around his wrist.

  
“Lance, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hunk warns, “You’ll get hurt.” Hunk leans over and picks up the chair Lance had knocked over when he had gotten up.

  
He placed his bag on a desk to the right of Lance, hanging it on the chair. He made himself comfortable before speaking again, “That’s Keith.” He pointed from Keith to Lance, “Keith, this is Lance.”

  
Learning his name made Lance’s anger double. This was the pilot he had heard so much about. The man who everyone thought was going to be a fighter pilot.  
The man who Lance had to beat.

  
“You know this trash?” Lance questioned Hunk, slightly raising his voice to make it easier for Keith to hear.

  
Hunk shook his head, “Stop trying to pick fights with the new kid, Lance.”

  
“Yeah, Lance,” Keith smirked. “Stop picking fights with me.”

  
Lance whipped his head behind him, his torso moving with him at a lower speed. The motion made his head nauseous, “The fuck did you just-“

  
“Lance, it’s really not a good idea.”

  
“Fuck you and your stupid mullet!” Lance leaned over and pushed Keith back using his pointer finger.

  
“Your fault for even trying to pick a fight!” Keith argued back, flying forward so that his nose was millimeters from Lance’s.

  
Lance pushed Keith back, “I’m going to kick your ass, Mr. I’m-so-cool.”

  
“Try me.”

  
Right as Lance lunged forward Hunk threw out an arm, placing it between the two teens, “Lance, knock it off!”

  
“But Hunk-“

  
Hunk gave Lance a sharp look, “No.”

  
Lance glared at Keith. Keith returned the gesture.

  
“Did I miss something?” The instructor walked in, a stack of papers in one arm and a coffee mug in the other.

  
“No,” they said at the same time, never breaking eye contact until the instructor called the roll.  
-

  
As it would be for a student going to a military school, the next months were pure agony for Lance.

  
Lance excelled in planning and shooting. Other times, he had to work for success.  
Piloting was one of those that he had to work for. He would get near perfect scores being in the eighties or the nineties, but never a hundred. Only one person ever achieved those in the simulator. Hunk, who became his roommate, tried many times to convince Lance to ask them for help or some kind of advice.

  
Of course, Lance hated this person and refused to do anything of the sort.  
When the next day came by Lance wasn’t at all surprised to see his name in the second rank.

  
He also wasn’t surprised to see the name above it.

 

  1. K. Kogane 100
  2. L. McClain 98



He was always so close, almost reaching Keith’s scores, but never actually doing so. This man was perfect.

  
In every subject, he got almost perfect scores, pardon diplomacy and shooting. He couldn’t publicly speak nor be polite for the life of him. He couldn’t aim a clean shot either.

  
Lance grew accustomed to seeing the assholes name above his. Every paper bringing a new kind of pain and hate. Lance wasn’t sure who the hate was for, though. Was it towards Keith for being so perfect or was it at himself for being so stupid and letting this happen.

  
The pain, he knew, was for himself. The physical pain of staying up all night to study for a test only to get a slightly lower score than Keith. The pain of going without food because he had to succeed. The pain of almost losing his friends because of the work he had to do.

  
The emotional pain of never being good enough. Of only getting past Keith in talking and aiming a gun and shooting. Even then, Keith was always there in the top 5, waiting for a moment of weakness before reclaiming his spot on 1.

  
What pained and angered Lance the most was that the man never checked.

  
Never had he seen Keith look at the paper.

  
Never had he heard Keith brag about his skills.

  
The more Lance saw him, the more frustrated he got. The role model. The straight-A student. The most talented pilot. The man who will always be better than Lance. The man with no imperfections.

  
Lance loathed him.

  
Of course, this was all before the Kerberos mission.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope to see you soon!  
> Please do not ask for more chapters!  
> For updates visit @what-a-waste-to-be-replaced on Tumblr!  
> For more fanfics by me that are not on my Ao3 visit @why-not-langst-haha-kill-me for more!


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